Anger Management 101
by MrsRen
Summary: Charlie has always gotten into fights and Hermione has always patched him up, but...things haven't always been like this. Between a ridiculous rule Ron is trying to implement, and a slew of Weasleys hiding out in her flat, Hermione wonders if they're ever going to figure things out. [MUGGLE AU.] [COMPLETE.]
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: Charlie Weasley x Hermione Granger. Muggle AU. Street Fighting AU. Smut. **

**Prompted by and Written for HaveCourageandBeKind. This started as a one-shot, but it quickly got out of hand. This short story is already written, and ready for publishing. It's 14.3k and broken into three parts. The parts probably won't be the same length, since I'm pretty sure part one is the longest. Also, I promise this is the only author's note that is this long. **

**Thank you to LaBelladoneX for beta reading, Frumpologist for the cover she made, her encouragement, and another thanks to AlexandraO and NuclearNiki for pre-reading and assuring me it was worth posting! **

**Summary: Charlie has always gotten into fights and Hermione has always patched him up, but...things haven't always been like this. Between a ridiculous rule Ron is trying to implement, and a slew of Weasleys hiding out in her flat, Hermione wonders if they're ever going to figure things out. [MUGGLE AU.] [HEA.] [THREE-SHOT.]**

**Warnings: Some violence, a lot of smut, and one instance where it's alluded to that Hermione has slept with someone "off-screen". Also, Ron's not that great in this. **

* * *

There was a banging on her front door. Rolling over amongst the tangled sheets around her, she already knew who it was with one look at her alarm clock. Groaning, Hermione slid out of bed. Eventually her neighbors were going to report her to her landlord for the late night noise. She padded down the corridor and through her living room, flicking the lights on as she went. Hermione peered out the peephole, recognising a familiar head of red hair.

She let the door swing open while rubbing her eyes. "Can't you get injured at a reasonable time? Say like, eight o'clock in the morning?" Hermione asked with a yawn as she stepped out of the way. "That's a nasty bruise forming on your cheek. What did you do, get in a fight with a wall?"

Charlie grinned, the smile reaching his eyes like it never did when he visited the Burrow. "Yeah, you should see the other guy." He took a seat on the sofa, pulling out the first aid kit she kept below it. "As for you other question, no. The night is still young, sweetheart."

Others called her sweetheart, and the endearment made her angry, made her say that she wasn't their sweetheart. With Charlie, it made her stomach twist and flutter at the same time. Hermione sat on the coffee table in front of him, taking the kit from his hands. "Not when I have class in the morning. It's Monday."

"Tuesday now," he corrected cheerfully. "Oh, come on, you don't have a bloke hiding in your room right now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I usually send my one night stands home." Which she did, but there was something about telling Charlie that she had one night stands that seemed different. His eyes flicked to her, and he clenched his jaw. "Does this hurt?" Hermione paused, her fingers dropping away from the bruise.

"No," he rumbled. "You're too gentle to hurt me."

She snorted. "Yeah, okay. Try not to move, would you?" There was a cut below his eyes, a shallow one. She dabbed it with antibiotic cream, smirking when a low hiss escaped him. "What did I just say?"

"Well," he drawled, "if you weren't so far away, I wouldn't have to lean forward. I'm just losing my balance."

"Bullshite." Hermione laughed. "You just like to drag this out."

"Maybe I like your company," he challenged. "Have you ever considered that?" Charlie grabbed her easily in one swift movement, gripping her hips hard and pulled her into his lap.

She squeaked. "What are you _doing_?" The shorts she slept in could barely be considered shorts, and they were pushed up her thighs as she straddled his waist. The long shirt she wore—not hers, but a man's who she'd met in a pub—was slipping off her right shoulder.

His eyes lingered on her shoulder, and then her legs, but she didn't notice. "Just making this easier, sweetheart. You said I was moving too much, and I told you it was because you were so far away. This'll fix our problem."

No, what it did was create a whole slew of other problems. She swallowed, while tilting his head up. "Jesus Christ, Charlie. What did you get yourself into?" Forgetting about her precarious situation—the one where she wanted to grind down on his lap and see what happened—Hermione's mouth fell open. There was another bruise, this one much older than the one on his cheek, and she could clearly make out the outline of fingers.

She slid closer to him, putting her weight on her knees, to get a better look. He caught her wrist, his fingers closing around it. "Just a drunk fucker at work," Charlie rasped.

Her eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that he got that good of a hold on you?" she asked. "I've seen you at work, Charlie, and I've watched you throw guys out that are a lot bigger than you." It was true. She'd been going to the Shrieking Shack for years with friends, and she often saw the patrons Charlie hauled out.

Sure, working as a bouncer might mean he could get punched in the face, but she had a hard time believing one had managed to squeeze his throat so hard it bruised.

"He got the drop on me," Charlie deadpanned before quickly changing the subject. "Spend a lot of time watching me throw people out, Hermione?"

Her throat threatened to close. She spent a lot more time than she'd like to admit, but she certainly didn't feel like admitting that to him. "Hard to miss when you're threatening to bash someone's head into a wall."

"Oh," he smirked. "I don't do that."

"Right, you skip past the threats."

He shook his head. "Come on now. I don't do that either. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've been in a fight at the pub."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. She leaned over to throw the tube of antibiotic cream into the first aid kit. "Sure you can, and I'm going to call Ron for a nightcap." The attempt to drag information out of Charlie didn't go as planned. "Oh, don't look at me that way. You know we're done."

In an odd twist of things, Hermione was closer with her ex-boyfriend's older brother following their breakup.

She watched Charlie's throat as he swallowed. "It wasn't funny. And if you don't quit wiggling—"

Hermione shot off of him. Despite the fact that she'd like to stay in his lap and let it actually lead somewhere, she wasn't interested in embarrassing herself in front of the man. "Um," she murmured, and she grew flustered as he chuckled.

"Thanks for patching me up." Charlie said.

She shrugged. "I didn't do anything but rub cream on your cut and manhandle you."

"I don't mind the second one." He winked.

Her heart shot into her throat, and she couldn't breathe properly. "Are you going to tell me who left those bruises on you? If you don't I'll just have to assume you had rough sex. Either with a woman with huge hands, or a bloke. Which is it?"

Charlie's grin was slow, but his laugh was loud, followed by the sound of her upstairs neighbors banging on the floor. "Not into blokes."

Clearly he wasn't going to give her an answer at all.

* * *

Hermione kicked off her shoes, dumped her medical textbooks onto the recliner, and promptly threw herself onto the sofa. Flicking through channels on the telly, she crossed her ankles, and wished she'd taken her bra off before she couldn't be bothered to move.

The door of her flat opened, and she peeked over the top of the sofa to see Harry pocketing his key. "Hey!" He shrugged out of his jacket. "Mind if I hide out here?"

"No, but I'd mind even less if you'd call me before dropping in. You scared the hell out of me." Hermione let her head drop back to the decorative pillow her mother had given her.

Harry moved her books onto the coffee table, making sure he didn't stack them in only one pile that would block her view. "Honestly, I didn't know if you'd even be home yet. I just needed a place to avoid the Burrow, and everyone who lives there. "

She sat up with her back to the armrest, and brought her knees to her chest. "Yeah? What's that about?"

He sat in the recliner her books had recently vacated. "Ginny's pregnant, and it's not mine."

Her eyes widened. The two had been broken up for well over a year, parting ways when it became clear that holding onto their on again, off again relationship was causing more harm than good. Molly had been devastated by the outcome, trying to put the two back together as if they were puzzle pieces to be played with.

She'd treated her and Ron much the same, but they turned out to be so volatile that Hermione didn't attend Sunday dinners for three months. "Did Ginny say who's baby it is?"

Harry looked as if he needed something much stronger than the water he held in his hand. "Yeah, but don't let it slip to Molly. She's had a friends with benefits relationship with her boss for a few months now. Turns out she likes him quite a bit, and now she's up the duff."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Molly is going to have kittens."

"That's putting it mildly. She threw up all over Molly's shoes this morning when she handed her a piece of bacon, and that's when Molly knew. Accused her of being pregnant over breakfast, and it blew up tremendously. Ginny didn't bat an eye when she said she was six weeks."

"So everyone knows then?" Hermione asked. "Were all of the Weasleys there?"

"Besides Bill and Charlie. Oh, and Percy, but you know Molly's already called all of them too," Harry muttered. "Do you have any booze?"

"In the freezer," she answered. There were several loud knocks on her door. "Would you grab that while you're up? Hermione rested her chin on her arm while she watched reality television. "Pour me whatever you're having too!"

The door creaked as it opened. "Hiding here too, Harry?" Her head whipped around to see Charlie kicking the door shut behind him. "You've heard about Ginny?"

She nodded.

"Then you ought to know that Fred and George are on their way over. Your flat is our hideout for the foreseeable future." Charlie slung his leather jacket over the chair in front of the kitchen island. "Mum called me this morning to tell me the happy news, and then thirty minutes ago, she called me to ask when I was giving her grandchildren."

Hermione's laugh was muffled behind her hand. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing she wanted to hear, that's for sure," Charlie scoffed. There was a series of frantic knocks, and he opened the door without even looking through the peephole. "Fred, George. Harry's pouring shots if you need it."

Hermione stood idly by while testosterone took over her flat. "_Don't _touch that remote unless you want to lose a hand, Fred."

His hand snapped back as he sat on the couch. "Wrong twin. I'm George."

"Liar, part of your ear is missing." The result of a tragic accident that was a mugging, Hermione didn't like to bring it up, unless reality television was involved. "Drop the remote or I'll drop you out the window."

"Cruel! More violent than Charlie!" Fred mumbled.

Hermione made her way into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. "Want one?"

Harry returned to the living room, greedily tipping one shot glass to his lips while carrying another. "I'll keep the remote from Fred." He nodded to Charlie before leaving the two of them alone.

She handed him the bottle of water even though he hadn't replied. "Do you work tonight?"

He nodded. "I picked up a shift to blow off some steam. The crowds are worse on the weekends." Charlie uncapped the bottle, and took a drink. "Are you going to drink that?" He pointed toward the bottle of whisky.

Hermione's hip brushed the cupboards beneath the island countertop as she leaned against it. "I wasn't planning to. I have an exam in the morning, and I'd like to be clear headed for studying."

His nose crinkled. "You're taking an exam on a Saturday?"

"Seats were full for Monday, and I don't want to wait another week. It's fine." She held the tall bottle out to him by the neck. "If you want."

"Trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?" Charlie took the bottle from her, his fingers lingering over hers for just a second too long. "It's better if I stay clear headed as well." There was a thud as he set it down.

Ron knocked on her door not long after the twins arrived. She didn't mind being in her ex-boyfriend's company. They weren't friends by far, but they weren't quite the enemies they had turned into after their split.

Still, from where Hermione was sandwiched in between the armrest and Charlie, his arm slung around her while he drank a beer, she didn't appreciate the glares she received.

Charlie set his empty bottle on the table. As he relaxed against her, all Hermione could truly focus on was the feel of his hard body pressed to hers. He played with her hair—only Harry could see it as he sat on the other side of Hermione—wrapping a stubborn curl around his finger. He leaned down, lips brushing her ear intimately, and he whispered, "I never realised your hair was soft."

She didn't know what to say, so she only murmured a quiet thank you. "Ron is glaring at us."

"Hmm," Charlie hummed. "Does he look jealous? I sure as fuck hope he does."

Unsure of what that meant, Hermione decided to assume it was because Charlie thought his younger brother was a prick. And he was. He'd cheated on her, and never felt sorry about it for a second. "Yeah, I'd say he looks jealous. I mean, we _do_ look cosy right here," Hermione admitted under her breath.

He said nothing in return.

"Can you hand me that?" Hermione pointed toward the textbook in front of Charlie. He passed it over, and she laid her legs across his lap while she flipped it open. Another hour passed, and Charlie announced that it was time for him to leave. She waved goodbye, sipping her water as he slipped out the door.

But her eyes lingered, and she knew it hadn't gone unnoticed.

* * *

Hermione didn't smoke normally. It was a nasty habit, but she found herself lingering on the walkway outside her flat after midnight, fag between her fingers. Ron had joined her, not that she could complain since she'd bummed it off of him. She leaned against the black railing, tapping the cigarette over the edge, ashes falling below.

It was a bit chilly honestly, and Ron had already offered her his jacket, which she'd declined. If she went in to snag hers, he'd question her snub, and she wasn't in the mood for it.

"You know the rule, right?" Ron asked.

Her head snapped up. "What are you on about?" Hermione lifted her hand, taking a long drag. "What rule?"

"The one that makes Charlie off limits, just like if you had a sister I wouldn't be able to date her either."

Hermione snorted as her anger bubbled. "If I had a sister, I would like to think she'd be smart enough not to date you. Considering you're not that great at keeping your prick to yourself."

He didn't bristle like she expected. "Alright, that's a fair point, but you understand what I'm getting at here, right?"

She didn't respond. What a ridiculous fucking conversation. As if her friendship with Charlie was going to lead anywhere. He was seven years older than her, and while he probably didn't think of her as a kid anymore—especially not after he'd deposited her into his lap like some sort of caveman—Hermione very seriously doubted he had any romantic interest in her. "Piss off, Ron. There's nothing between Charlie and me."

"Oh, I'm fucking sure, Hermione. Anytime he's around, you're too busy staring at him to pay attention to anything else."

She shrugged. "It's not my fault you've got a fit older brother, Ron. Regardless, nothing there." Hermione reminded him. "And if there was, it wouldn't be any of your business if I acted on it. I'm an adult, thank you."

His face turned red as she reached the halfway point of her cigarette. "Yeah, I guess you've been gagging for him since you were what, fifteen?"

Hermione wasn't embarrassed about her teenage crush in front of Ron. Maybe if Charlie found out about it, though she suspected he already knew. So, she opted for the wrong move, which was fueling the fire. "Sure, Ron. That's it, except you've gotten one tiny thing wrong," she snarled.

He towered over her, taking a step forward. Not that it worried her. Ron might be one of the biggest pricks she'd ever met, but he wasn't going to be physically violent after she wounded his pride as she was going to. "What?"

"I think I'd rather gag _on_ him."

Ron scowled at her. "You—"

"What's going on here?" Charlie's voice was booming, and Ron sprung away.

She hadn't realised how close the two of them had been standing, and Hermione recognised what Charlie was thinking before he said anything. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to your _face?_" Hermione took a drag as Charlie neared her. "Mother—" She tilted his head up, and there beneath the lights outside her flat, she saw several cuts across his cheekbone.

"Just a—"

"Wall again?" She bit out scathingly. "Come on, Charlie. Give me a little credit; I'm smarter than that." Four circles were cut into his skin, a nasty wound that needed to be cleaned immediately. "Who did you get into a fight with?"

He waved her off. "Guy at the pub."

Ron, still standing beside her, said slowly, "You were off tonight."

Charlie glared at him over her head.

"Hold this for me, would you?" Hermione tucked her cigarette into Charlie's hand. "This was brass knuckles with some sort of weapon on the end of them. It's in the exact shape of a fist, Charlie."

"I don't want to talk about it." He told her—and her only—while he watched Ron over her shoulder as if he were an animal.

Hermione gritted her teeth, raising her arm and ushering him into her flat. "Right, grab the first aid kit since you know where it's at." Hermione stepped inside as Ron followed them.

Charlie lifted her cigarette to his lips. He knelt down, sliding the first aid kit out. "Should I sit here?"

She shook her head. "Go to the loo. There's better lighting in there." When Ron tried to follow them in his attempt to make the 'rule' clear, Hermione turned on him. "There's not enough room." Then she slammed the door in his face. "Can you sit on the counter? You're too fucking tall."

Grinning, he lifted himself onto the counter, veins sticking out from his arms as he asked, "Aren't tall guys your type?"

She didn't laugh even though his flirtatious behavior always made her laugh. "Tilt your head up."

He complied, staring up at the ceiling as he did so. "What were you and Ron talking about? Looked intense from my perspective."

Hermione began to clean the cuts that adorned his cheek. They were deeper than she expected, and she felt smug as he winced. "Hurt?"

"Don't look so happy about it."

"I'd be happier if you didn't look like you've been part of a bar fight." Hermione replied. "I don't want to talk about it." She answered his first question. "And that's not just because you're a dick who won't tell me what happened. I mean it. It's stupid, and it's nothing."

Charlie nodded. "Alright," he trailed off. "It's just that the two of you were really close. You're not thinking of getting back together, are you? I don't want to tell you what to do, but he's no good for you."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "It's sweet of you to worry about me, but no. We're definitely not getting back together. He's just overly interested in my non-existent dating life."

"Surely it exists."

She shook her head. "Not particularly interested in a relationship with someone who doesn't hold my interest. So far, no luck."

His gaze raked her up and down. "What does it take to hold your interest?"

She uncapped the tube of cream and dabbed it on her finger. "You're right, I do like taller men, but they don't have to be as tall as Ron. Just taller than me. I like someone that takes care of themselves, and has a good sense of humour. I like to laugh. Maybe someone older than me."

"Older?" He echoed in surprise.

She grinned. "You're good to go. Feel free to crash here since the rest of your family already has. The twins are in the spare though. Harry's in the recliner, and honestly, I don't know where Ron is. Hopefully the couch since the only other room is my—"

"You don't think he'd really try to sleep in your bed, do you?"

Hermione packed the first aid kit, flipping it shut. "He's drunk, so I wouldn't be surprised, but I'd just tell him to sleep with the twins or on the couch. Unless you get to the couch first. If that's the case, he'll just have to sleep on the floor." She said it with a lopsided smile even though it was likely that Ron was about to corner her again about her relationship with his older brother. "Put this up, will you? I'm going to go give Fred a bucket. He drank too much."

"He always drinks too much," Charlie sniggered as she opened the door. "Fred wants to challenge everyone to a drinking contest, and I enjoy drinking him under the table."

Snorting, Hermione made her way into the kitchen to retrieve the rubbish bin from under the counter. Ron was leaned against it. "Excuse me, Ron." He stepped to the side. "Whatever you have to say, say it now." She muttered, casting a look over her shoulder.

"Why does he know where the first aid kit is? And why did he come straight here?" Ron asked.

She and Charlie never talked about how the rest of the family didn't know about his frequent visits to her flat. Hermione knew it would lead to questions and accusations, so she'd never broached the topic. After all, she was always alone when he came by.

Tonight was the first night someone had been in her flat when he appeared. It only made things worse that it was Ron who'd witnessed it.

"He knows where the first aid kit is because he tends to get into a lot of fights, and he came here because I've been patching him up for years now."

Ron's nostrils flared. "Are you fucking kidding me? Patching him up, Hermione? You and I both know that sounds like bullshite."

"Well, that's the truth. I didn't mention it since you'd think we were fucking. He comes by when he injures himself, that's it."

"Goddamned idiot," he hissed, his hand gripping the counter. "Do you really think he can't rub a bit of cream on himself, Hermione? He's a grown man."

Hermione turned away from him, clutching the rubbish bin in front of her chest. She didn't care why he chose to come by her flat when she enjoyed his company. "Thanks for your opinion, but I think I'll ignore it." When she exited the kitchen, Charlie was sitting on the couch, arm slung over the back while he gave her a curious look.

Ron slammed past her, his shoulder meeting hers, and she stumbled.

Hermione fell, her bare knees meeting the carpet while the bin rolled across the floor. "Lock the door while you're at it," she called.

He slammed the door, and her upstairs neighbors banged on the ceiling. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Sorry!" She called back.

Charlie stood over her already, holding out his hand to pull her to her feet. "Want to tell me what that was about?"

She gnawed the inside of her cheek. Hermione peeked around Charlie to see if Harry was still asleep, and she wasn't surprised to see him with his mouth hanging wide open while he drooled. "He asked why you came here, and why you knew where the kit was."

"Ah," he nodded. "So you told him the truth?"

"It wouldn't have mattered if I had lied. He already thinks I'm fucking you silly since he says I was making eyes are you earlier."

"Were you?" Charlie asked seriously. All the mirth had vacated his eyes. "Making eyes at me, I mean?"

Her chest deflated as she drummed up a snarky retort. "The only thing I was making eyes at was my textbook."

Had she imagined his shoulders slumping? "Is that really what the two of you were arguing about?"

She made her way past him, working to calm her erratic heartbeat as she let herself into the spare bedroom. Hermione set the bin down by Fred's side, and softly shut the door behind her.

"Yes."

"Smoke?" Charlie asked, pulling a pack from his back pocket. "Oh, you've got that exam this morning, don't you?"

Snatching the pack from his hand, Hermione decided she'd chug coffee in six hours. If it was time spent with Charlie, she found that she couldn't resist. "It's fine. We can sit on the steps." She neglected a second time to grab her jacket. Once seated, she held the cigarette between her lips while he lit it. "He asked me if I knew about the _rule."_

Charlie snorted as he took a drag, and Hermione burst into a fit of giggles that she tried to muffle in the crook of her arm. Her shoulder bumped his as she shook. "I see. Yeah, he tried to have that talk with me a couple of years ago, and I told him to fuck right off with his posessive bullshite."

Eyes widening, Hermione arched a brow. "You mean he talked to you about _me_? Why on earth would he do that?"

"You're fit, sweetheart. Ron's not the only one to notice that. It must have been right after the first time you had to fix me up."

Hermione remembered it well. Charlie and Bill had a sparring match in Molly's garden. It was a contest to see who was the _real_ older brother after they'd returned from Bill's stag night. Charlie had a split lip, bloodied nose, and a black eye. Bill had fared much worse, but he'd snuck up to the room that Fleur stayed in to placate himself.

She'd taken care of Charlie, and they had talked in the middle of the garden for most of the night.

But beyond that—a nice memory, sure—he'd called her fit. Hermione knew she was attractive. Her hair could use some work, but she liked it the way it was. Still, hearing it from him was another thing altogether, and she hadn't been prepared to hear it.

Charlie continued without noticing her near premature stroke. "I said that you were bloody smart, and that you weren't even surprised to see me with a bloody face. Pretty sure I said you'd make a good mum whenever you got to that part of your life since you babied me. Ron thought it translated to, 'Man, I really want to fuck your ex-girlfriend until she can't walk'."

She could be cheeky like Charlie, couldn't she? Hermione remained causal, smoking beside him. "Did you mean it like that?"

He didn't answer at first, so she assumed that she'd taken him off guard. Not only that, she'd probably made everything bloody awkward.

"I'm joking, Charlie. You never told me he said that."

"I didn't want you to worry about him acting as if he had a claim on you. Apparently he thinks he still does since he brought it up to you."

She shrugged. "I told him there was nothing between us. Not that he's likely believe it."

_I also told him I wanted to gag on your cock, but we'll ignore that. _

* * *

A week later, Hermione was blissfully drunk in the middle of the Shrieking Shack. It was Charlie's night off, which was a damn shame, but she'd quickly forgotten about that as she swallowed shots like water—while Ginny sipped her actual water—and Luna let blokes do body shots off of her while lying on a table beneath the neon lights.

"I'm going to dance!" Hermione yelled over the music.

Ginny raised her glass of water. "If you say so. You hate dancing."

She did, but she was drunk, and it sounded like a good idea. Hermione found her way onto the dance floor with her abysmal dancing skills, and it wasn't long before someone was pressed against her.

That was how she'd ended up back at her flat with an honest to God stranger. It, tragically, had not been a great shag. The guy — still nameless to her and, hopefully, he stayed that way — had passed out immediately after. Hermione had been left to get herself off, which she had done with a vibrator and dildo behind the locked door of her bathroom. She'd just kick him out in the morning and be done with him.

She was almost asleep when a loud knock caused her to tumble from the bed. Hermione groaned. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She muttered, standing up. She caught sight of herself in the mirror; she was clad in only her knickers and a thin shirt that drew attention, and would draw even more considering she wasn't wearing a bra, _and_ her nipples were hard.

The guy in her bed stirred. "I'll get it. You just wait here. It can't be anything good at this time of night. Maybe round two when I get back?"

She wanted to put her face in her hands since he clearly had no idea how inadequate he was, but she wanted to beat him to the front door even more. Hermione sprinted to the door, peeking out the peephole before cracking it open. "Um, is it—" She was about to ask if it was an emergency when she saw that it definitely _was._

Not thinking about what he was about to see, but also not caring, Hermione pushed the door open.

"Jesus Christ, you're fucked _up_."

She hurried for the sofa, crouching down and grabbing the familiar plastic box. She didn't pay attention to the silence as she stood, but she was met with an awkward staredown as she finally looked up.

Charlie was glaring at the man only wearing boxers in her living room. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here? Charlie, it's the middle of the night. Doll, if you already had a hookup, you should have told me. Don't fancy getting into a brawl with my friend here."

If it were possible—and she found that it definitely was—all of the colour drained from Hermione's face. "Um, so you two know each other then?" She squeaked. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." Bad-at-Sex replied. "Charlie, look—"

Charlie decked him and she shrieked. The box plummeted to the ground, gauze and everything scattering across her floor. "Fuck, Charlie, just—" Hermione was cut off as the other guy swung, and clipped Charlie's jaw.

Hermione elbowed her way in between them, avoiding any punches herself. "You should probably leave," she stated, "but for the record, I'm not sleeping with Charlie. There was no cheating here, and I'm _really _sorry he hit you."

Charlie's friend wiped his bloody mouth. "Might want to tell him that you're not shagging because I'm pretty sure he hasn't gotten that memo." He disappeared into her room, emerging a few minutes later fully clothed while holding a rag to his mouth. "Probably not going to return this."

Hermione grimaced. "Please don't." She locked the door as it shut behind him. Squaring her shoulders, she turned around. "What the fuck was that about?"

He never glared at her, and yet here they were. "I don't… I don't know," Charlie admitted begrudgingly. "Work is going to be uncomfortable."

She hadn't known that the man worked at the Shrieking Shack, but she hadn't known anything about him at all. "You punched him, Charlie. You need to work out your shite because your temper is out of control. You've gotten into more fights in the last two weeks than you have in the last two months."

His hands curled into fists. "I'll go then."

Hermione stepped in front of him. "I don't want you to go. I just want you to be honest with me, Charlie. I'd like to think we know each other well enough for that."

"Work was just—"

She saw red. Hermione shoved him backward, not feeling one ounce of guilt when he winced at the pressure on his chest. "I was at the Shrieking Shack tonight, Charlie. I asked if you were there, and Pansy told me you weren't. Look, whatever you've gotten yourself into has got to stop. You're going to end up in a hospital." She reached for him, hoping to close the chasm that had suddenly split them.

Charlie smacked her hand away. "I already have one mother. I don't need another."

He left her with that, slamming the door.

She hung her head, eyes filling with unexpected tears.

Hermione wasn't even surprised when her neighbors yelled that they were calling the landlord in the morning if she couldn't keep it the bloody hell down.

* * *

**I'd love to hear what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you SO much for all of the love left for this little fic. Publishing new pairings is always kind of frightening, and you've made me feel right at home. I hope you'll enjoy this next part, and I will upload the last part within a few days I'm sure. I definitely think I'll write this ship again. **

* * *

Hermione's week passed without incident. Her upstairs neighbors were probably thrilled by the lack of noise that allowed them to get a full night's sleep. She woke up often in the middle of the night, glancing at her alarm clock, and her mobile. Charlie hadn't knocked on her door once, and it had cut her much deeper than she thought it would.

Playing his statement on repeat of how he didn't need another mother, she was mortified. It hadn't been her intention, but she supposed she'd overstepped the line.

She spent her nights studying amidst the Weasleys—and Harry, the honorary Weasley—as they converged on her flat every time Molly mentioned grandchildren. Charlie didn't show his face once, and Hermione attempted to wear a mask of indifference every time she opened the door to find that it wasn't him.

Ron noticed, which meant it was likely that everyone had noticed. Hermione didn't know when her feelings for Charlie had blossomed into so much more, but it was clear.

Charlie was likely still getting into fights, and Hermione was fighting herself over just calling him to give an apology.

It turned out that she didn't have to.

He might avoid her, but he wouldn't skip another Weasley dinner for the third week in a row. It wasn't why Hermione had agreed to go, but she couldn't say it hadn't crossed her mind. Ginny invited her, begging even because she didn't want to be the only woman at dinner.

Molly gave her a tight hug, patting her on the back several times before releasing her. The woman took Hermione's coat, almost pulling it off in her haste. "It's so good to see you, dear. You'll have to tell me all about university. The boys never tell me anything."

Hermione followed Molly through the untidy but homely house. It was clear that her grandchildren had recently visited. Inside the dining room, everyone was already seated, and Hermione's stomach dropped when she saw the only available seat was across from Charlie.

She quietly picked at her food, stealing glances at Charlie when he wasn't looking. Maybe he noticed, but she didn't know. Around her, the family discussed their separate lives. Fred and George's shop was doing well, and had finished the month with killer sales. They were eager to move into the Christmas season, which they hoped would be even better than their first.

Ron had nothing to report between his bites of food. Harry said much of the same.

Molly skipped right over Ginny, apparently still angry that her daughter wouldn't say who the father was. She chose Hermione next, and that was when it all went to shite.

"How are your classes?"

Hermione washed down her food with water. "Great." She cleared her throat. "Professor Snape says he's challenging us, but sometimes I think that he just wants to see us suffer." Partly, it was true. Severus Snape was a professor she'd never had before, and he was certainly hard on his students. "I'm eager for Christmas hols so I can enjoy the break."

Molly nodded. "Of course, of course. Have you met anyone?"

Charlie spewed water.

She blinked, looking from him back to his mother. "Um, not really."

"How's Sam?" Charlie asked, and she kicked him hard beneath the table. "What? It's a fair question since he was in your flat at three in the morning."

The table fell deathly quiet, and all too late, Charlie seemed to realise his mistake. With Ron glaring at them both, and food falling out of Harry's mouth comically, Hermione rubbed her face.

"Dumbarse," she muttered.

Charlie didn't take the insult well. "_I'm_ the dumbarse?" He hissed.

Hermione threw her hands up. "That's what I said, isn't it? I can say it slower, if you like. It's none of your business who I decide to sleep with, and it's certainly not your place to punch someone in the face over it!"

"Sam is a fucking prick to woman, and you just merrily jumped on him like a carousel." Charlie's jaw was clenched.

She stood, intending to walk away because it was the mature thing to do, but she didn't. "What did you think you were doing, Charlie? Protecting me from a man I can assure you I was never going to see again? Fuck you."

He shot to his feet, his chair flipping onto its back. "He's seven years older than you!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she waved him off. "Again, I don't think it's any of your business who I sleep with. If you're just angry that it was your friend for whatever reason—"

Ginny interrupted, unable to keep out of it, with a sly smile on her face. "Why does it matter that Hermione likes older men? She always has."

There was a tick in Charlie's jaw.

Molly cleared her throat. "While this has been incredibly enlightening in many ways, there's a more important question here."

Charlie snapped, "What?"

"Don't take that tone with me. Thirty-five or not, I'll still bend you over my knee." Molly scolded. "Why were _you_ at Hermione's flat at three in the morning?"

Hermione apologised under her breath and excused herself. She ran up the stairs, her heart beat nearly in her throat as she locked herself in the bathroom. Everything was a mess, and she put her face in her hands. Frustrated by the disaster that dinner had been, and the fact that if her feelings hadn't been obvious before, they probably were _now. _

There was no knock on the door, just the knob wiggling until it finally creaked open. Charlie stepped inside, locking it once more behind him. "Mum is searching for a belt to wallop me with."

She didn't laugh. Hermione sat on the counter, her legs crossed at the ankle, and she refused to look at him. "I don't think I want to talk to you."

"Yeah," he said softly. "I probably wouldn't want to either. I made an arse of myself."

"That's putting it mildly."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I lashed out at you," he admitted.

Hermione shrugged. "You know I'll forgive you for it. It's not like you to act like this, and I just wish you would be honest with me."

"One question," he promised.

"Why did you hit him?" Hermione stared at the floor, listening to her heels hit the cupboard with a thump. "Charlie?"

His fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. "I couldn't stand seeing him with you."

She didn't know what to make of that. Hermione wanted it to be due to jealousy, but then she also didn't want to think that Charlie was the type to get violent when he was a little green. "Why?"

He traced the inside of her wrist. "Just one question, sweetheart."

Hermione huffed. "That's ridiculous."

"I'm sorry for acting like an arse."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "I'll forgive you, but you'll have to spend a long time making it up to me. And _you_ can talk to Ron because I have no desire to hear what he has to say about this."

"Can I have one question? I'm just curious." At her silence, he asked, "Why do you go for older men?"

Hermione laughed. Of all the questions he could have asked, that wasn't what she'd expected. "I was tired of not getting off. I've had bad luck with men my age being selfish with pleasure. I really hit the bottom of the barrel with your friend in that regard."

Charlie arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I got myself off after. Oh, God, why am I telling you this?" Hermione groaned, hiding her eyes with her fingers.

He shook with laughter beside her. "You'll patch me up next time?"

She leaned on his shoulder. "If I don't, who will?"

* * *

"Are you sure the last three answers were C, 'Mione?" Harry asked. He ran his fingers through his hair, effortlessly spiking it open in a way that was completely Potter. "I know that you've already told me three times, but would Lockhart really put three questions in a row with the answer C?"

Hermione sighed. Sitting in the floor between her coffee table and her sofa, her mobile was balanced against a stack of books she'd made just for this. "Yes, I'm sure. Who's better at mathematics, me or you?" Honestly, she couldn't believe that a university professor was issuing multiple choice assignments. "When is this due? You could come over tomorrow and I'll help you work it out. I'm exhausted."

Harry gave her a sheepish look.

She groaned. "It's due tomorrow. Why would I expect anything else?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Harry corrected. "I could come over at noon?"

Hermione nodded, telling him a quick goodbye before letting her mobile fall to her chest. Unsurprisingly with her luck, there was a faint knock on the door as she dozed off. It was odd. Charlie was the only person who would show up so late, and he banged on her door like the building was on fire.

She stood, rubbing her eyes as she neared the door. Glancing out the peephole, it seemed that Charlie was leaning his forehead on her door since all she could see were freckles. Hermione flipped the locks, letting the door open, and was caught off guard as he fell forward. "Charlie?" Her voice filled with fear, she looped her arms around his waist. "Hey, can you hear me?"

He managed to lift his head. Charlie's right eye was bloody, running down his cheek and rolling off his chin onto her shirt. "Fuck, your shirt."

"Forget the shirt," Hermione gasped.

"You said it." Charlie said, and his fingers traced the hem of her shirt.

She ducked down, struggling to get his arm over her shoulder as she put as much of his weight on her as she could. Charlie was heavy, really fucking heavy, but Hermione got him to the sofa where she could sit him down. "Can you see? Is your vision blurry?"

He pointed toward his right eye. "Only this one, but it's probably the blood." There was a cut above his eye, bleeding profusely. "Fuck's sake, do you ever wear pants to bed?"

Hermione climbed onto the couch while setting the kit on his lap. She set to cleaning the cut over his eye, frowning when he winced. Whatever he had gotten himself into was clearly worse than it had been any other time. "Charlie, you're…"

"I'm beginning to think you're wearing pretty knickers just for me."

"Oh, my God, you're drunk." Hermione didn't mean to laugh. "You've seen me in my knickers twice, and I assure you I didn't wear pretty knickers the first time for you." She cleaned his face of blood, tossing the rags onto the side table that she'd need to wipe down later. "Who did this to you?"

"Don't know his name." It was probably the first honest thing that he'd said about this to her. "He looks a lot worse than me though. Fucker didn't know when to quit." His fingertips slid along the inside of her wrist.

"You're the fucker," Hermione deadpanned. "You probably have a concussion."

He shook his head. "I've been knocked around a lot worse than this."

"Yeah? Because I've never seen it."

"Last week," he slurred. "I got the shite beat out of me, and I took care of it at home."

Hermione shifted, wiggling her feet before it could fall asleep. "You could have come by. I was probably awake studying for exams anyway."

Charlie shrugged. "I thought you didn't want to see me after I hit Sam—which I definitely don't regret—but you're probably still mad about it."

Now that the blood was gone he looked like himself again, but there was a dark bruise forming below her fingers. "I can't say I'm happy about you acting like a caveman. You said you couldn't stand seeing him with me. Why is that?"

He let his head fall to the side and he grinned. "I'm not that drunk, sweetheart."

Dammit. "You can't blame a girl for trying. Come on, let's get you into bed if you're so sure you don't have a concussion."

"What?"

Hermione stored the kit below the sofa. "I'm not letting you drive home. You look like a fucking nightmare, and you need to rest. For all I know, you'll just get into a fight again if you… I'm sorry." She looked away from him, tugging her shirt down in front of her. All it did was expose the bare skin between her breasts. "I don't mean to act motherly, you know that, right?"

Charlie stood, stumbling over his own two feet as he did so. For a moment, Hermione feared she was about to be crushed between his body and the floor. "I didn't mean that." He tipped her chin up, his face inches from hers. "It was a shitty thing to say, and I kicked myself for it all week."

"Alright," she murmured. "I just don't want to come across as motherly to you."

He laughed. "Trust me, I definitely don't think motherly things about you." Charlie rubbed his shoulder as he turned back toward the couch. "If you're insisting that I stay, I'll take the couch."

She grabbed his shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous, the couch would be murder on your back. It's not comfortable." Hermione watched his eyes drop to her chest, and she was sure her blush spread down her neck. "Just take the other side of the bed. It's big enough."

His grin was wicked. "Want me in your bed, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, Charlie. Down the corridor, last door on the left. I'll be there in a second." Hermione watched as he made his way to her room, barely stumbling, but he knocked a photograph on the wall askew. She threw away the bloody tissues, disinfected the table, and washed her hands vigorously. With water drenching the bottom of her shirt, she padded toward her room, turning off the lights as she passed them.

Hermione climbed into bed, making sure to lay as far away from Charlie as she could. The last thing she wanted to do was press herself against him and embarrass herself. She reached up to turn off the lamp. "Goodnight, Charlie."

His fingers brushed her back, lingering just centimeters away from her skin.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione woke while pressed against a hard body. There was a hand resting on her hip, but there were fingers that had dipped lower, toying with the waistband of her knickers. She muffled her groan as the previous night's events flooded back to her. _She couldn't have put on some fucking shorts at the least? _

Attempting to disentangle herself from Charlie, Hermione slowly moved away so she wouldn't wake him. The plan that was only slightly thought out while she was still half asleep failed as his arm locked around her waist, and she was pulled back into the curve of him. "Sleep," Charlie whispered, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck from behind. "Too early."

As if she would be able to sleep when his cock was pressed into her arse. "Charlie, I—"

His lips skimmed her throat, and she squirmed. He wasn't aware of what he was doing, Hermione told herself, controlling herself to not roll over and—

She cut the train of thought short.

"I can't sleep."

"Sure you can."

"No, I'm not tired," she argued. "Let go of me, you caveman." Hermione slithered out of his grip, bending over for a pair of yoga pants. "I'm going to make breakfast."

She let the door close quietly behind her. While she wasn't sure what would have happened had she stayed in bed, Hermione considered finding out.

Twenty minutes later as she laid two plates on the kitchen island, Charlie emerged with wet hair.

"You couldn't put a shirt on?" Her gaze lingered on his bare chest, water running down toward the well defined V leading into his joggers. "I'm sure you could have found one somewhere in my closet."

He grinned. "Didn't feel like wearing one. Why? Is it a problem?"

Hermione pushed the plate toward him. "Not at all. Should I go without one as well?" She innocently ate her bacon, watching his eyes darken as they fixated on her. "What? No answer?"

"A question actually," Charlie rasped. "Do you normally leave your sex toys out for anyone to see?" When her face caught fire, he added, "Use them often?"

"I enjoy myself," she said, lifting her head. "Also, I don't believe I left them out."

He snapped his fingers. "You're right. I found them by mistake really. I _did _look for a shirt in the dresser, but instead I found an impressive collection of sex toys. Do you really need that _many _vibrators?"

"First of all, it's not that impressive. Let's not exaggerate here. And second of all, yes. Some are better than others."

"Which is your favorite?"

She swallowed hard. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

A drop of water ran down his chin, along his throat as he lifted the glass. "Humour me then."

"The wand is the best one," Hermione whispered. Unable to tear her eyes away, she squirmed in her seat. "Are you going to ask me why it's the best next?"

"Maybe." Charlie walked around the island, twisting her in her chair. He grabbed her by her hips roughly, and set her on top of her kitchen island. "What if I ask for a demonstration instead?"

The front door banged open. "Hermione!" Harry yelled, and Ron stepped in just behind him. "Oh! Are we interrupting something?"

She had forgotten to lock the door the night before. Letting her face fall into her hands, she muttered, "Get out."

Harry had never been good about listening, and he was no different in that moment. "Um, can we just hang out in your living room? Molly is on a—"

"We really don't give a shite whatever tirade Mum has gone on this time," Charlie growled. "Get out." His fingers traced the inside of her thighs. "Ron, you'd do well to follow Harry."

There were no footsteps, and Hermione knew Ron hadn't budged. "You're fucking Hermione now?"

"Not yet, but I'm about to," Charlie shot back, and he pinched the inside of her thigh. "Don't pick a fight you'll lose."

Hermione pushed Charlie's hands away, gritting her teeth as she hopped off the counter. "_Or_," she snapped, "the two of you could stop having a pissing contest. Ron, I haven't shagged your brother, so get out."

At least this time when the door slammed, it was in the middle of the day.

She turned to Charlie, her hands on her hips. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to use me to show that you've won something, like some sort of conquest."

He blinked, his mouth falling open. "Hermione, I don't—"

"Yeah, I know you don't think of it that way, which is why it's so easy to forgive you. But I do have a class to get to, so I won't be able to give you that demonstration." Hermione winked as she made her way to the bedroom. "Will you put the dishes in the sink?"

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**So close, and so far. I'd love to hear what you thought!**


	3. Chapter 3

**You know, originally I thought I would post once a week, but I'm too eager not to share. Plus, it's my birthday, and I do what I want. Here is the last chapter. It's as long as the first, and it's my favorite of all three. Thank you for reading and making my foray into this ship so enjoyable! **

* * *

She hadn't seen Charlie in four days, which had never bothered her before. Maybe it was because he'd made it clear, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted with her—what he wanted to do _to_ her—or it was possibly due to the fact that Ron had mostly gotten over it. Even though he assumed she and his brother were already together—which they weren't—Ron seemed to have calmed down.

He only shot a heated glare her way once in a while.

Hermione dug through her bag for her wallet, fumbling for her card before realising she'd left it at home on her nightstand after a bout of shopping at three in the morning. "I'm sorry. I forgot my card." She sighed as she closed her purse.

The barista didn't look amused as she held the ridiculously customised drink that Hermione had ordered. "You don't have cash?"

"I have a dollar." Hermione deadpanned, not liking the rude turn the conversation had taken one bit.

"I'll cover it." She recognised Charlie's rough voice, and the tattoos on his arms as he reached over her shoulder, handing out his card. "Ginny said you'd be here."

Hermione exited the shop with him, wrapping her fingers around the styrofoam cup and blowing on it. "It would seem she was right. I'm always here though." The coffee shop was just off campus and the coffee was not only better, but cheaper. "Were you looking for me?"

Charlie dipped his head, nodding, and his hand bumped hers. "I didn't like how we left things earlier this week, without me being serious for a moment, I mean."

Her nose wrinkled. What did that mean? "You're never serious. I'm not sure I would recognise you if you were." Hermione bumped him with her hip.

He hooked his finger through the belt loop of her jeans, and pulled her off the busy path. "I just meant—" Charlie scratched the back of his neck—"I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it the dumbarse way."

She grinned from behind her cup. "Naturally."

"You know that I want you for more than a vibrator demonstration, right?"

Hermione choked on her coffee. "Charlie!" She stressed his name, looking around them. "Do you know how to use an inside voice?"

His grin was cheeky. "We're outside, sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder. "Yes, I assumed that you wanted more than that, but I haven't thought about it much." _Lie. _"I figured we would talk about it the next time you needed to be fixed up."

"I thought I'd come see you since I wanted to anyway. Is there a rule where I have to only see you in the middle of the night?"

Laughing lightly, Hermione said, "I don't know. I think the rules are that I don't fuck my ex-boyfriend's brother, and then you're only supposed to see me in the middle of the night, or when all of you Weasleys hide out in my flat." She clutched her cup as he traced her forearm, looking down at her. "But that's fine. You can come see me anytime."

He arched an eyebrow. "Dangerous words."

She shrugged. "Make me regret it."

* * *

Charlie texted her multiple times over the next two days, enough to make her check her phone every few minutes as she wondered if he'd replied yet. As the semester wound down, the assignments piled on. She had mentioned it in one of her messages—how Professor Snape was going to cause her to sleep for the entirety of winter hols—and Charlie assured her that she would probably receive a perfect score on her exam.

She doubted that, but it was nice to hear.

"Where's your popcorn?" Fred asked, flipping through the channels on the telly. "Did you eat the last of it?"

Hermione glanced up from her book. "No," she said slowly. "_You _did, and then you threw it back up after chugging vodka like it was water."

Fred tapped his fingers against his chin. "I supposed that did happen. Why do you keep vodka around anyway?"

She turned the page, uncapping her highlighter. "Viktor left it, and I never drank it. I never threw it away either."

He spluttered as he realised just how old the bottle must have been. "Is Ron still avoiding you?"

Closing her book after tucking her notes inside, Hermione set it on the table in front of them. It was evident she wouldn't get any studying done so long as there were Weasleys in her flat—save for Ron, and the one she really wanted to see. "He hasn't spoken to me. I'm sure he's upset, but Charlie and I really haven't slept together. Not that it's any of his bloody business anyway."

Fred kicked his shoes off and crossed his legs beneath him. "He's jealous."

"That's not my problem. He's jealous for the sake of being jealous, and we all know it. Being friends is feasible, but we're not compatible."

"So you're compatible with Charlie though?"

The memory of being pulled to his chest while they laid in her bed crossed her mind, shortly followed by the conversation over breakfast immediately afterward. "Yes," she swallowed. "I would say we are."

Her phone vibrated on the sofa cushion next to her.

_Fred and George are there? You're not going to get anything done. _There was a laughing emoji that followed his text.

_Fred's asking about you, and whether I think we're compatible or not. You didn't put him up to this, did you? _

_I didn't, but let me know what he says. I'll come kick them out for you to study if you want before I go to work. _

She told him it wouldn't be necessary, and pocketed her phone.

Fred settled on a cooking show that made her stomach growl. "It's a shame he couldn't come by tonight. Whatever he's got going he could have put off."

Her brows drew together. "What do you mean? I thought he had a shift tonight at the pub." An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She knew that Charlie had lied, for some unfathomable reason, before Fred replied.

"No, he's picking up his wages when the doors open, but he said he had somewhere to be after that."

Hermione's stomach twisted as the information sunk in. There was no reason for Charlie to lie to her, none that she could accept as a viable excuse. "Oh, that's strange," she said softly. "He told me he was working tonight."

Fred's eyes narrowed, and it was rare that his amusement slipped from his face. "I'm sure it's nothing." His tone relayed that he didn't think that at all. "He's been rather busy in the last few weeks. Mum said this morning how she called him last night, and it went straight to voicemail. Ginny called him in the middle of the night last week to bring her ice cream—which was hilarious considering it was two in the morning—and he answered. She said it sounded like a crowd in the background, and he hung up without saying anything."

The man had been acting strange for weeks, since just before the Weasleys started taking over her flat. Stranger than normal, and he showed up on her stoop after being beaten up more times than he had in months. And _that_ was no exaggeration. Something was going on, and Hermione decided she was going to get to the bottom of it.

"Do you know what time he picks up his wages?"

Fred grimaced. "I don't want to be in the middle of this."

"I'm not asking you to rat on whatever he's up to, Fred. I just want to know when I can catch him for a chat," Hermione argued, poking him hard in the shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "If that were the case, you would just call or text him. God knows how much you've been doing that recently."

"I'll buy you the popcorn you like if you tell me, and I'll give you remote privileges for a week," Hermione offered, knowing he wouldn't tell her no.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fine, fine. He'll be there at ten, I'm sure."

* * *

She debated calling Charlie instead. After all, that was the mature, level-headed thing to do, but when she thought about it for a moment longer, she wrote that option off. Clearly, he'd already wormed his way out of every question she had, and asking him directly would get her nowhere.

Hermione left Fred, George, and Ron sitting on her sofa while Harry sang a horrible rendition of a pop song in her shower. True to her word, she'd also purchased popcorn, which Fred dumped into the biggest bowl she had.

It was freezing outside.

Hermione stepped off the curb, slowly making her way through the parking lot while wrapping a scarf around her face. She waited the necessary ten minutes for her car to warm up while rubbing her hands together. From the driver's seat, she could see that the boys had left every single light in her flat on.

_Typical. _

Hermione uncapped her bottle of water and took a drink before pulling away from the parking lot. The Shrieking Shack wasn't far, perhaps a fifteen minute drive, but she made it in ten. There was something about spying on Charlie that made guilt turn to lead in her stomach. For a brief moment she considered just going back home and waiting for him to decide when the time was right to tell her, if he really _did_ want to tell her.

She forced herself to stay inside her car when he pulled in, emerging from a shiny black two-door. He wore his leather jacket, and a fitted pair of jeans that really shouldn't have made his arse look as good as they did.

Gripping her steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Hermione sank into her seat. It would just be her luck for him to notice her, and she knew how likely she was to instigate a fight if he did.

Her mind continued to come back to the fact that there was _no_ reason for him to lie. Hermione didn't care what Charlie did in his spare time, but after the discussion outside of the coffee shop, she couldn't say she cared for secrets.

_He'd _said he wanted more, and she imagined that would have included more truthfulness.

Still lost in her thoughts, she nearly didn't see when he pulled away from the curb.

Hermione followed him carefully, working to stay two to three cars behind him. Not that he would have noticed her anyway. From what it looked like—which was exactly what it looked like—Charlie was busy hosting a one person concert.

She laughed loudly.

Traffic thinned as he made his way into a seedy part of town. She recognised it. There were several abandoned warehouses—none of them with ample security to keep anyone out—and she'd been in one of them with Harry and Ron before.

_Was Charlie going to a party? _

She sincerely doubted it, but it was all she'd ever seen in the area. Hermione let her car idle on the side of the road, hoping he didn't notice the identifiable bumper sticker Fred had given her for WWW on the back of her car.

Since he continued on, she breathed in relief. He parked outside of a warehouse, climbing out and following a crowd.

Hermione bit her lip before grabbing her purse, and locking her car as she crossed the street. The air whipped past her, the chill meeting her face as she put her head down. Right after Charlie, she lingered behind a group of men talking loudly.

She passed them, glancing up at the line that had grown sparse. Hermione walked directly past the man standing at the door with his arms crossed, and he yanked her backward. "Where do you think you're going?" His breath fanned across her face and she winced. "Admittance is ten pounds."

Fuck! "Um," Hermione whispered nervously. "Do you take card?" She joked.

He sized her up, his eyes lingering a bit too long on her chest for her comfort. "You've never been here before, have you?"

Hermione shook her head. Honestly, she didn't even know what _this_ was.

The man sighed, grabbing her wrist while drawing an X over her hand. "Don't worry about it this time, but don't let me catch you here again without paying."

"Okay." Hopefully there wouldn't be a next time.

She pushed her way through the dense crowd, and was elbowed several times while receiving glares. The industrial lights were bright overhead, nearly blinding, and she did well to keep her head down. From the center of the room, Hermione could hear a crack that echoed, followed by cheering.

_What in the fuck? _

As she came to the front of the crowd, her stomach dropped, and she knew why Charlie was showing up beaten bloody all of the time. It was clear why he hadn't told her. Hermione would have done everything to talk him out of it, and she could be quite persuasive.

In the middle of a makeshift ring—which was created with paint dragged around the sides—Charlie pivoted from one foot to the other while a dark-skinned man lunged at him. Charlie caught him by the throat, punching him in the jaw before the other man went down.

Blood was spit across the concrete.

Charlie only wore sweatpants that rested low on his waist, revealing a dark patch of hair leading down. She supposed he was also wearing trainers, but she hadn't dwelled on them. A necklace hung around his neck, shining beneath the fluorescent lights, and Hermione was rooted to the spot.

Her jaw must have been open since a man nudged her and yelled, "You'll catch flies," over the deafening cheering. "Have you never been here before?"

"Is everyone going to ask me that? Should I have it stamped across my forehead?" Hermione shot back.

He grinned, running his fingers through blond hair. "No, I was just behind you in line. If you've never been here, why start?"

She swallowed, looking back to Charlie. "He's my—" Hermione didn't even know what he was at this point "—something," she finished lamely.

"Yeah? He's a fucking monster in that ring. I've never seen anyone beat him." He cupped his hands over his mouth when Charlie decked the other man, blood dripping from his mouth as a tooth fell from it. "See that?"

"Yeah," she whispered under her breath. Hermione wasn't a stranger to violence, but _this_ felt different. "Oh, fuck." She turned to walk away, but Charlie had already seen her, his mouth dropping open.

Panic was written across his face.

His opponent took advantage of it, but even still Charlie caught his fist.

Hermione didn't have the heart to watch as Charlie finished the fight.

* * *

He followed her into the alley behind the warehouse, shouting her name so loud it echoed in the empty space. "Hermione, goddammit, stop running away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you. I'm going home," she shot back, while raising her hand into a rather rude gesture over her shoulder. "You should probably get back to whatever it was you were doing."

Charlie snorted from behind her. "Sweetheart—"

That's all it took.

Hermione whipped around, glaring at him as she marched up to him. "Don't call me that. Don't think you can just _sweetheart_ me and everything will be okay because it's not." She shivered, realising she'd lost her scarf somewhere, but it didn't really matter at the moment. "You know what? It doesn't matter. It's your business."

He nodded. "I mean, yeah."

She wanted to punch him in the face. "But don't come to me when you get yourself fucked over."

Charlie reached for her, and she smacked his hand away. "Please don't be like that."

She huffed. "Fuck you."

"Alright." He put his hands up. "I know that you're mad because I lied to you—"

"Several times." She deadpanned. "You've had the chance to tell me _several_ times. That's why I'm angry. Or maybe it's because you told me you were working and it was fucking Fred who told me you were lying to me." _Shite. _She wasn't supposed to have let that slip, and judging by the way Charlie's nostrils flared, Fred would probably hear about it later.

"I knew you'd be upset."

"Yeah, I think that's understating it."

Charlie shook his head. "Hey!" He caught her wrist, tugging her back to him. "Just let me talk, alright?"

"Then make it quick because I'm discovering that I'm not all that interested," Hermione spat.

"Just—have you ever wanted to just hit someone?"

She blinked. "What? No, that's fucking ridiculous. There are much better ways to channel your anger, Charlie."

He dragged a hand down his face, his frustration clearly written across his face. "Look, this is probably going to make you angrier, but I don't know how else to make you understand."

Her blood boiled. "I understand perfectly fucking fine, thank you."

"No," Charlie shook his head. "You really don't. You've never wanted to hit something, or someone? That's bullshite and you know it, Hermione."

"Oh? And you would know so much about me!"

"Yeah," he growled. "I would, considering I've been watching you since you dumped my fucking brother. So you've never wanted to hit someone? What about when Ron fucking cheated on you? You can't tell me you didn't want to hit him, because I know I did."

Her eyes narrowed. Bringing up Ron was a low blow and he knew it. It was why he'd done it. She was proud her voice didn't waver when she hissed, "Not even then."

Charlie took a step back from her, crooking his finger and beckoning her toward him. "Don't lie, Hermione. You wanted to, and if you were angry before, you're furious now. Just fucking hit me."

She didn't need to be told twice. Hermione shot forward, and punching him in the jaw. His head jerked to the side as she cradled her hand, muttering beneath her breath. "Fuck you." And then softer, she added, "Your face hurts."

"Yeah," he laughed. "You don't have to tell me that. You've got a mean right hook."

So she'd been told. "I'm still angry."

He nodded. "You're probably not going to give me an ice pack this time, are you?"

Hermione burst into laughter. "Not bloody likely. I think I'll let you suffer this time. Charlie… you have to know that this is a bad way to let out aggression. Not only is it illegal, you're going to get hurt."

Charlie rolled his eyes, and her anger returned. "If you're so fucking smart, then what do you suggest?" The barb wasn't even hurtful considering they had always joked when he said that.

Lifted her head, she snapped, "I don't know, Charlie! Have you ever just tried rough sex instead of beating the shite out of someone?"

He grabbed her by her arms, and she was pinned to the wall of the warehouse before she could blink. "You are so goddamned bossy and it makes me fucking crazy. You never shut _up_."

Hermione laughed, leaning her head back. "Suppose I don't. What are you going to do about that?"

Charlie grabbed her from the backs of her knees, and slammed her to the wall. His mouth was hard against hers, unforgiving while she yanked his hair. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, his pelvis grinding into hers, and then he bit down on her lower lip. "Jesus fucking Christ, are you always like this? All teeth, and yanking hair?"

She gasped, "I think it's you."

His hand slipped between their bodies, sliding down her stomach as his thumb brushed across her clit through her jeans. Charlie's other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline while he kissed her so thoroughly she couldn't breathe.

"Would you like a crash course in anger management now?" Hermione laughed. "I don't fancy shagging outside in the middle of winter."

He dipped his head, his hair tickling her jaw as he kissed down her throat. Charlie left a mark, encouraged by that weak whimper that left her when he gripped her hips. "I don't know if we'll make it back to your flat."

"I think we'll manage, but my car—"

"Leave it. We'll get it in the morning." Charlie set her on her feet, smirking when she wobbled. His hand slid into hers as he led her to his car, opening the door for her in a small gesture that made her laugh. "Which is closer, mine or yours?"

"Mine," Hermione answered. She crawled across the center console, tugging the collar of his shirt down while pressing her lips to his throat. "Focus on the road," she muttered.

His hand slid up her thigh as he drove, and Charlie groaned when she palmed his cock through the fabric. As he pulling into the parking lot of her complex, Hermione suddenly remembered that her flat wasn't empty.

"Um," Hermione wanted to smack herself. "Everyone is in my flat right now. I was a bit too preoccupied to tell you that."

He chuckled. "It's fine. I'll throw them out."

"I mean—we could—"

"If you're about to tell me to just fuck you in my car, the answer is no. I want you in a bed where I can have you every way I want."

She was about to ask him what those ways were, but he stepped out of the car. Hermione hastily followed him. They barely made it up the stairs because he kept swatting her arse, his hand lingering just as the sting did.

"So, Ron will probably—" All Hermione wanted to do was remind Charlie that there might be a confrontation, and maybe he should let _her _handle it.

He pushed her up against the door, his hands framing her face while he kissed her. "Could fuck you out here in the open."

A moan left her, as weak as it was, and she slumped against the door. "I'd rather not be on my knees on the concrete."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "Fucking minx." He reached behind her, twisting the doorknob, and found it was unlocked. His arm locked around her when she stumbled backward, giggling. "Everybody out." His tone left no room for discussion.

Ron's face immediately grew red, but she suspected it was due more to embarrassment than anger. "Uh," he spluttered.

Fred and George stood without ceremony. "I'm taking the popcorn." Fred pointed out.

She laughed. "Just get out." As the four men frantically fled her flat, Hermione grinned. "I expected that to be more difficult." Hermione was struck silent as it sunk in that they were completely alone. She swallowed, tilting her head up. "You said that you watched me."

"You want to talk about that now?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Not really, no." Shutting up, she grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. Turning to Charlie, she lifted the hem of his shirt, and he pulled it over his head. Hermione squealed as he hoisted her up, his palms on her arse as he picked her up. Idly tracing the tattoos that were inked across his shoulder, leading down his bicep, a short gasp left her when he tossed her on the bed.

Charlie climbed onto the bed, hovering over her with his hands planted on either side of her head while he nudged her legs apart with his knee. "How much do you trust me?" His lips moved along her clavicle, his tongue darting out. "I promise you'll like it."

She shuddered. "Yes."

He clicked his tongue. "Grab your vibrator, the one we discussed."

Hermione's eyes popped open. She wanted to question him, but the anticipation was enticing. She rolled over, pulling it from the drawer. Before she could speak, Charlie unbuttoned her jeans, and quickly pulled them down her legs.

He watched her pull her shirt over her head, and reach for the bra clasp resting against her spine. "Don't," he said. "I want to do it."

She couldn't argue with that.

Charlie moved closer, laying next to her as he lay on his side. He reached down, parting her thighs with a calloused hand, and pressed the head of the vibrator against her clit. He noticed when her breath caught, watched when she raised her hips, desperate for any type of friction.

He started with a low speed. "How long can I keep you like this?"

Her head fell back to the pillow as she pressed her hips up again. A soft whimper fell away from her, and she buried her face in his chest. "Charlie,"

He pulled the cups of her bra down, her breasts spilling from them. "Fucking hell." Not moving the toy, he lowered his head, and captured one of her nipples, flicking his tongue across it.

The speed increased, and Hermione was almost certain she was close to an orgasm. She moaned his name, her back arching. "More, more, Charlie, you have to give me more."

He sniggered against her skin, and he might have muttered how bossy she was as he increased the speed.

"Oh, my God." Hermione writhed below him, balling up the sheets in her hands. No one had ever done this for her before. In truth, no partner she'd been with had been willing to use toys with her since it offered nothing to them. "Oh, fuck." The expletive was dragged out, and she whined in protest as Charlie turned the vibrator off, discarding it amongst the sheets.

"Your knickers are soaked." Charlie rasped, his eyes darkening as he slid down the curve of her body.

Knowing what he was about to do did nothing to prepare her for it.

Her body jerked as his tongue traced her slit, a ragged moan leaving her as Charlie held her legs apart. He licked her clit, circling it with slow, even strokes as he pumped two fingers inside of her.

She was unable to control how her legs clamped down on his head, and Hermione buried her fingers in his hair as she began to fall apart. "Charlie, Charlie—Jesus _fucking_ Christ—"

He was smirking, she was certain of it.

When his lips closed on her clit, and his fingers curled inside her cunt, Hermione came over his mouth with a loud shriek.

Still panting, she fell to the bed. "Come here."

She grappled for him, pushing him onto his back immediately after he discarded the rest of his clothes. Hermione straddled his waist, gripping his cock before sliding down his length.

His hands squeezed her hips as she slowly took him, her head falling back as he stretched her. Charlie growled that her little cunt was tight around his cock, and heat pooled in her lower belly.

"Fuck, this is better than I imagined."

She'd comment on that later. Hermione braced her hands against the headboard, bracing herself as she rode him. "Imagine this often? I might have."

His eyes screwed shut. "Yeah, I did. I wanted to bend you over everything in this flat everytime I came over."

"Then do it."

Hermione's stomach met the cool sheet, and he pulled her onto her knees. She spread her legs, bracing her arms on the bed as she arched her back. She shivered as his nails slid down her back, digging into her skin and making her moan despite the pain.

He slammed into her, pushing her forward as he fucked her. It was better, _deeper_, than when she'd been on top. Charlie groaned over her, pumping into her roughly. "Play with your cunt, Hermione. Make yourself come on my cock."

He might be the death of her.

Hermione listened, reaching down between her legs to rub her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she couldn't catch her breath while he took her so hard that she would be sore the next morning. She found herself hoping she would be sore, that she'd feel it with every step she took, that—

"You take my cock so fucking well," Charlie growled, and he spanked her.

She begged for it again, and Hermione silently counted the strikes in her head. Her pace quickened as she sought another orgasm, greedily wanting to come over his cock. It hit her without warning. "Oh, Charlie… yes, yes… I'm coming."

He fucked her even harder, pressing her into the mattress roughly. Seconds later Charlie spilled inside of Hermione, and he fell to the bed beside her.

Still laying on her stomach, she smiled at him. "Tired?"

"Give me twenty minutes."

They didn't sleep for most of the night, and not just because they were too busy shagging to think of anything else. He made pancakes at two in the morning while she sat on the kitchen island. Shortly after they started a horror movie that didn't scare Hermione in the least, but she sunk to her knees in front of him and it was forgotten.

Taking his cock to the back of his throat, Hermione watched Charlie groan, felt him fist his fingers in her hair before he came down her throat. He muttered that she was fucking perfect.

Stumbling back into bed, Charlie slid into her easily after putting her legs over his shoulders, and fucking her while sitting on his knees.

* * *

There was yelling inside of her flat.

Hermione threw her arm over her face, groaning. "What time is it?"

Charlie fumbled with her alarm clock, dropping it. "Eight."

"That's too early. Do you think if we fuck loud enough that we'll scare them off?" Hermione asked, peeking over at him as she lifted her head.

He grinned. "I think it's definitely worth a try."

Her door slammed open. "Uh," Harry trailed off. "Are we interrupting anything?"

Charlie laughed. "We were sleeping."

"Tire yourself out last night?" That was Fred.

"Get out," Hermione groaned. "Just go somewhere else or I'll fuck Charlie on the sofa."

She was pretty sure it was Harry that choked. "Alright, well, we're taking your keys then, Charlie. Molly found out who the father is, and she's on the warpath. She wants someone to have a relationship that she gets to meddle in."

"Leave my car keys. Take the one to my flat." Charlie dragged a hand down his face.

"Also, Ron threw both of you under the bus. So Mum is mostly off our backs now; we just came by to warn you."

"You couldn't have warned us at noon?" Hermione snapped. They backed out, vacating her flat, and she was finally left in silence. "Do you mind that she knows?

Charlie ducked under the sheets with her, propping his head up on his hand. "No. Why would I?"

"It's not like we've established what this is. I know you said you wanted more than..." Hermione's cheeks flushed as she remembered the vibrator that had been knocked into the floor. "I don't want you to feel pressured into anything."

His laugh was muffled. "I thought I made myself clear last night when I said I've watched you. Hermione, I've wanted you for a long time. I'm surprised you never called me on it when I started showing up in the middle of the night for you to patch me up."

Hermione inched closer to him. "I wanted you to come by. Honestly, everyone knew I was infatuated with you, and I was hoping you wouldn't notice. Can you imagine how mortifying it would be if you hadn't reciprocated?"

"I don't think that was much of a problem. If you'd just said something sooner…"

She shrugged. "I didn't expect you to look at me twice since I was younger than you, and also the ex of your little brother. I wouldn't have blamed you for that either." She pressed her body to his, only a sheet separating them. "When you saw Ron and I that night while we were talking about the _rule_, if you had been there even a minute later, you would have overheard him reminding me that I've been gagging for you since I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Charlie echoed.

"You've always been hot, Charlie. Anyway, I pushed it to the back of my mind until you were around more, dropping by, and I'm getting off track. I told Ron I would rather gag on you to make him angry, not that it was a lie."

He shook with laughter. "You've got a smart mouth on you, sweetheart." Charlie pulled the sheet down, tracing the curve of her breast. "You were right. This is preferable to fighting when it comes to venting anger."

Hermione crawled on top of him. "Yeah?" She breathed, tilting her head to the side. "I'm happy to hear it."

"But… I might be over quite often if it's anything like the last few months," Charlie said softly, and it sounded like a promise.

She rubbed herself against him. "Oh, I'm eager to help in any way I can."

His cock slid against her slick folds. "I'm taking you to lunch with my come running down your thighs," Charlie growled and flipped her onto her back. "Probably finger your pretty cunt under the table."

"Maybe we should just go to dinner instead. I'm rather insatiable."

He pounced.

* * *

***snaps fingers.* **

**That's a wrap. Thank you for reading, and I would be so grateful if you would leave me your thoughts! I'm sure I will write this pairing again, but I have a fremione oneshot brewing in my head, and a jamione, so...I'm not sure when that will be. **


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